


Wild and Free

by OwlsWithFins



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And really, Angst and Humor, Draco's falling apart but it just makes us love him even more, F/F, Femslash, Ginny has an adorable gf, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Luna's a therapist, Pansy's POV, Post-Hogwarts, Rare Pairings, Slytherin positivity, Truth or Dare, third person, when isn't Draco falling apart?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 09:57:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10942128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlsWithFins/pseuds/OwlsWithFins
Summary: Ginny’s eyes widened. “Parkinson’s gay?”Willingly attending therapy is the last thing Pansy Parkinson expected to find herself doing--especially when Loony Lovegood is the therapist. But being deep in the closet and editor of the Daily Prophet takes a lot out of a person, and sometimes even coffee and designer heels aren't enough to keep a witch sane.





	Wild and Free

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! This fic follows Pansy on her journey to self-discovery. There's humor, angst, Slytherin interaction, and a spot of Linny :) Hope you enjoy!

_ "The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion." _

_ -Albert Camus _

x*x*X*x*x

Pansy Parkinson didn’t know what she was doing. What happened to the confident, self-assured woman she had always considered herself to be? Where had she gone? Where in Merlin’s name had this irrational fear come from? She had to be out of her mind. She supposed, however, that was why she was here.

Pansy smoothed her skirt with manicured hands, more to have something to do than because it was wrinkled. Unwrinkling charms were her specialty--she had once gone a week wearing the same dress shirt without repeating the charm and it remained as crisp as ever. Of course, she didn’t make a habit of re-wearing outfits, but that was a truly exhausting week. Being editor of the Daily Prophet wasn’t a walk in the park--especially when her top writer went on maternity leave.

One would think that with as hard as Pansy had worked to achieve her position she’d have it fairly easy. Apparently, that isn’t how it works. Work perpetuates work perpetuates work. And lately, it had become too much. Which she guessed was part of why she was here. Not why she needed to go to therapy--Salazar knew there were years of baggage to sort through if she wanted to know that--but why she needed to go _now._

Her eyes lighted on the strange plants growing in the doorway and along the ceiling. A purplish vine danced overhead, its blooms making small chirping sounds and exhaling sweetly. The sound was oddly soothing, and Pansy wondered what it was called. Perhaps she could ask her secretary to pick one up for the office. Then again, it would probably attract unwanted questions and get in the way of her work.

She was the only person in the waiting room since it was technically after hours. It was the only time Pansy could squeeze a visit into her schedule, so she was glad the therapist agreed to see her anyways.

“...thank you, Dr. Lovegood. I don’t know what I would have done...”

Pansy looked up to see a short brunette shaking the hand of the therapist.

Dr. Lovegood tilted her head to the side, a faint smile on her lips. “You would have found the answer eventually. Sometimes it just takes a new perspective to reach it more quickly.”

And with that, the patient gathered her belongings and took her leave. Luna’s eyes locked on Pansy, gaze so intense it nearly drew a gasp from the dark-haired woman.

“Pansy,” Luna greeted. Her eyes softened and Pansy felt her chest expand with breath once more.

“Dr. Lovegood.”

“I dislike my formal title,” Luna commented frankly. “Luna is fine.”

“Luna,” Pansy repeated. The name felt liquid on her tongue. It had been years since she’d had seen the Ravenclaw in person. Pansy had printed her picture in the Prophet on multiple occasions, but she was never the one to do the interviews. It was difficult to reconcile the world-famous therapist and Quibbler journalist with the Loony Lovegood she knew at Hogwarts, but Pansy was surprised to find Luna hadn’t changed at all. Her reputation had taken a turn for the better, but she was just as odd as ever.

The cork charm from her Hogwarts days was fastened around her neck, and her hair was in a nest of braids on her head; strange objects poked through the woven strands, adding color to the pale locks. Bulbous dirigible plums dangled from her ears. Her stockings were every color except blue--a deficiency her dress covered quite well. It seemed to shift between a thousand shades at once. Cerulean, teal, periwinkle. Luna wiggled her toes, unconsciously drawing attention to her lack of shoes. Pansy wished she could work barefoot. Sometimes it felt like she practically slept in heels.

Luna made a soft humming sound, and Pansy realized she was staring.

“Would you like to start your appointment now?” Luna asked dazedly.

Her voice was beautifully light and airy, and it took Pansy a few moments to collect her words. “Yes, that would be nice.”

Luna smiled. “Wonderful. Right this way.” Her fingers trailed along the walls as she wandered towards the room at the very end. The pattern she drew was intricate and hypnotic, but Pansy doubted Luna even realized she was doing it.

When they reached the therapy room, Luna sunk into a woven basket hanging from the ceiling. She didn’t speak, but Pansy took the hint to sit down as well, choosing the small couch and sitting primly on its edge.

Luna’s gaze fell on Pansy. “What’s brought you here today, Pansy?”

The Slytherin sighed. She was wondering that herself, wasn’t she? “Life.”

Luna laughed a fairy-like laugh. “That’s also what’s kept you from visiting me thus far. Perhaps it would help to focus on what motivated your visit today in particular.”

 _Curiosity_ , Pansy thought to herself. _Stress. Exhaustion. Paranoia._ “My top writer went on maternity leave, so I’ve been working two jobs to cover for her.”

Luna nodded, considering. “I imagine that’s been rather tiring. Especially when you factor in the full moon. It’s always harder to sleep when the sun’s reflection sheds light on your id even when the sun has tucked itself away.”

Pansy didn’t know what the woman was talking about, so she didn’t respond. Instead, she tried to remember the last time she had a full night’s sleep. Last night there’d been a column to write, and the night before a stack of articles to revise. Friday was the first night in a long while she hadn’t had to take her work home with her, but instead, she’d come home to an inebriated Malfoy heir lounging about on her couch. By the time he’d told her his long list of woes and fell into a restless sleep, she was late for work and found herself in another position to test her unwrinkling charms.

“I feel like the less I sleep, the more my facade falters,” Pansy muttered. “And in my position, I have enough enemies that any slip up could mean the end of my career. Just picture the headline: DAILY PROPHET EDITOR GIVEN A TASTE OF HER OWN POISON.”

Luna tilted her head to the side again. Pansy wondered if she knew she was doing it. “What is it you’re afraid of exposing?” the blonde asked curiously.

Pansy wanted to break that heavy eye contact, but she forced herself to hold Luna’s gaze. “I’m not afraid.” The lie was hard to get out, and once it left her lips, she wished it hadn’t said anything. Luna’s pitying smile was too much to handle.

“I think,” the Ravenclaw began, “that perhaps we should reschedule. While the full moon exposes our id to ourselves in dreams, it doesn’t necessarily keep us honest while awake.” With that, Luna stood and left the room.

Pansy stared at the vacated chair in shock. She couldn’t comprehend what had just happened. Luna had just walked out on her in the middle of a therapy session. Pansy Parkinson did _not_ get walked out on. In fact, Pansy couldn’t remember the last time someone other than Draco or Daphne even lifted a finger against her to her face. The world was aware of the power she held in her quill; no one would dare call her bluff, especially not in the pitying way Luna just had. It just wasn’t done.

Except Luna had done it. And maybe it was because of the novelty of it, or because Pansy didn’t take insults sitting down, or perhaps,  _just maybe_ , because she wanted those silver eyes to meet hers again...Whatever the reason, Pansy couldn’t resist marching after her.

She found the blonde in the waiting room tending to the plant Pansy admired earlier. Luna didn’t look up from what she was doing, but the plant made a sighing sound at Pansy’s arrival.

“What in Salazar’s name was that?” Pansy asked, voice hinting at exasperation.

Luna giggled when the plant slithered around her shoulders in a sloppy embrace. “He likes to give hugs,” she said affectionately.

Pansy flushed with anger. “You can’t just refuse to see me.”

Luna finally looked at her, and Pansy fought a shiver. “I’m not refusing to see you. If you wish to spend an hour in silence, that’s fine. I simply figured you had better things to do with you time.”

“Then fucking talk to me!”

Luna came over to her then, studying Pansy so thoroughly the Slytherin felt her pores had been turned inside out. Luna’s fingers came up to tuck a lock of dark hair behind the other woman’s ear. Pansy’s heart nearly gave out.

“I’d love to talk to you, Pansy.” Luna’s mouth drew into a subtle frown. “But you’re not there. Not really. Let me know when _you_ want to talk to me.” Luna turned back to the ceiling plant without another word.

Pansy Apparated home. And punched a wall. She then proceeded to collapse on the sofa where Draco had spent the night a few days ago. It still smelled like him--like hair gel and fabric and cologne. She wondered what Luna smelled like. Probably wildflowers and lavender and ocean mist...

That was Pansy’s last thought as she fell asleep.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Ginny Weasley was quite good at reading Luna Lovegood. She could tell when she was sleepy by the way her arms hugged her chest and her eyelids drooped. She could tell when she had discovered something new by the brightness in her eyes and the way her lips tugged upwards like they were attached to Muggle balloons. And when Ginny Apparated into Luna’s office that evening, she could tell the blonde was deep in thought by the way her brows furrowed just the slightest amount and her body swayed gently as if possessed by a tide of thought.

Ginny knew Luna didn’t like to be disturbed at times like this, so she curled up in her favorite chair to wait for the eventual return to reality. Slipping off her sneakers, Ginny tucked her toes under her thighs and dropped her chin into her palm. Brown eyes fell adoringly on the contemplative Ravenclaw.

Luna’s eyes were liquescent, shining with ideas already imagined and the possibility of future discoveries. With her hair piled in braids on her head, her small ears poked out like those of a pixie. Ginny planned to press tiny kisses to the pale skin there as soon as Luna noticed her presence. It still seemed unbelievable that such a magical, elusive creature would choose her of all people. Where Ginny was fire and steel, Luna was an ocean. She was gentle and mysterious and full of a raw, primal energy unlike anything Ginny had experienced before. Knowing that undulating sea had chosen to kiss her shores, even for a fleeting moment, was enough to make Ginny dizzy with happiness.

Luna blinked slowly, lashes fluttering as if she was waking from a dream. “Ginny,” she greeted with an adorable smile.

Ginny held out her arms, and Luna padded over in her stockinged feet to climb into the Gryffindor’s lap. “What were you thinking about, love?” Ginny kissed the exposed tips of Luna’s ears as she waiting for an answer, causing a small shiver to run through the blonde’s spine.

“Pansy Parkinson,” Luna answered simply.

Ginny pulled away, brows rising in question. “Any particular reason?”

Luna fingered Ginny’s hair, still fastened in a ponytail despite the fact that Quidditch practice had been over for two and a half hours now. “She came in today.”

“Really? I didn’t figure she’d have the guts to spill her heart out to you.”

Luna giggled. “She didn’t. I told her to come back when she was ready to tell the truth.”

“I bet she didn’t take that very well,” Ginny said with a grimace. “Your name will be slandered on the front page of the Daily Prophet by morning.”

Luna shook her head. “I wouldn’t mind, but I don’t think she’ll tell anyone. She seemed very uncomfortable admitting weakness. Exposing me would mean exposing herself as well, and I doubt she’s willing to take that risk.”

Ginny nodded in agreement. “What did she want to talk about?”

“She wouldn’t tell me, but I think she’s having trouble coming to terms with her sexuality.”

Ginny’s eyes widened. “Parkinson’s gay?”

“I believe so.”

“How could you tell?”

Luna smiled proudly. “I tucked her hair behind her ear, and she went bright red before Apparating without another quip.”

Ginny stared at her for a moment before cracking up. “You seduced Pansy Parkinson?” Luna bit her lip shyly. Ginny kissed her, snatching Luna’s bottom lip with her own teeth. Luna wrapped her hands loosely around Ginny’s neck, and a chorus of sighs drifted down from the ceiling plant. Ginny knew it had a name, but her brain wasn’t quite functioning properly right now, and it seemed to have slipped her mind.

“I love you,” she said softly when their mouths broke apart.

Luna gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “I love you, too.”

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

“Honestly, Pansy, you have a mattress.” Draco’s admonishing voice broke through her dream.

She rolled over with a moan, burying her head in the cushions. “But I’m sleeping _here_. Or I was. What do you want, Draco?”

The young man scoffed. “Sound less excited to see me, will you? And if you must know, I came here in the middle of the night hoping to crash on your couch, when--gasp--I found you sleeping here. So, being the resourceful person I am, I decided to sleep in your bed instead, which was working perfectly well until your alarm charm started blaring directly in my ear at 5 a.m.” Pansy’s eyes shot open. “Of course, I couldn’t have it disturbing my beauty rest, so I hit the snooze button...and you know how that is...”

Pansy sat up stock straight at that. “Draco, how long ago did it go off?”

He considered. “About 45 minutes ago.”

If anyone asked her later, she would say she calmly reacted to this news and thanked her dear friend for bothering to wake her up. If anyone asked her neighbors, they would report hearing a rather loud shriek that lasted for approximately twenty-seven seconds. If anyone asked Draco, he probably wouldn’t hear them due to the loud ringing in his ears.

“You know, I should really thank you for being such a big help,” Pansy said sarcastically as she jumped off the couch, briskly rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Anything else you’d like to tell me?”

“You’re running low on Floo powder.”

Pansy groaned and made her way into the bedroom.

“I’ll make breakfast,” Draco called after her.

“You can’t cook.”

“Neither can you,” he pointed out.

Pansy paused, peeking her head out of the doorway. “Let me rephrase. You can’t contain fires.”

Draco shrugged. “Point taken.”

Pansy got to work three and a half minutes late. A proud smile lit her face as she checked her appearance in the window before entering. Her unwrinkling charms really were to die for.

  


Pansy didn’t generally appreciate people sitting in her chair. She hated finding it warm when she lowered herself into the cushion, and when she noticed crumbs in between the folds of leather, it made her wish the Unforgivable Curses weren’t quite so unforgivable. But mostly, it was a matter of principle.

Pansy was seconds from testing the legal system when her chair swiveled to reveal the offender.

“Pansy.” Daphne Greengrass lifted her sunglasses to reveal striking blue eyes. “You’re not answering your Floo calls.”

A dry smile crept over Pansy’s lips. “Four months in Paris, and that’s how you greet me?”

Daphne giggled and hopped up to envelop her friend in a tight embrace. Pansy tried to ignore the way her heart thrummed at Daphne’s close proximity. “Miss me much?”

“Life isn’t worth living without you, Daph,” Pansy said with an exaggerated swoon.

Daphne raised a brow. “Tell me something I don’t know.” She grasped Pansy’s shoulders and stared into her eyes seriously. “Now, we have an awful lot to catch up on, so finish up whatever you have to, and then we’re going for coffee. I’d kill for an espresso right now.”

Pansy was tempted to just give in. Her best friend was finally back, and she would honestly rather set her own hair on fire than look at another article. But... “I can’t.”

Daphne pouted. “But, Pans, I came all this way for you.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “First of all, you did not come all the way from Paris for me. Second, don’t you dare try to guilt trip me--that quit working first year. And third...”

Daphne gave her a look that said she was already predicting what was going to be said next.

“If you start up your celebrity column again, I won’t be quite as swamped and we can take the morning off.”

Daphne gave her a death glare. The look would have been more impressive if her lips weren’t still pursed in a pout.

“Lattes...” Pansy sang.

Daphne let a grin spread across her face. “Alright, I’ll do your work for you. But I require at least three hours of your attention, and you’re paying for coffee.”

Pansy smiled and took hold of Daphne’s hand. “Deal.” With a pop, they Apparated.

  


The spot they chose was a quaint Muggle shop. Plants were hanging from the ceiling in woven baskets, and the decor was minimal but earthy. Pansy felt slightly out of place surrounded by Muggles, but Daphne claimed it was hip, and Pansy was too desperately in need of coffee to request a change of scenery.

She found them a table while Daphne went up to the counter—the blonde knew Pansy’s order by heart. When Daphne returned, she had two coffees in hand and a countenance of Slytherin curiosity.

“So,” she said as she sat, “how have you been?”

Pansy raised a brow. “Daph, you hate small talk, and we both know the question you’re meaning to ask.”

Daphne smirked. “Then do tell, Pans.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “I haven’t been seeing anyone if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“No one?”

Luna’s silvery grey eyes flashed across Pansy’s mind. “Well, if you mean therapeutically, then yes.”

Daphne’s smiling lips quirked into a frown. “Pans, what’s up?”

Pansy shook her head, wishing she hadn’t brought it up in the first place. She knew what Daphne was thinking. Whenever anyone mentioned therapy, people assumed it was because of the war. Often times, it was. No one who lived through it made it out unscarred, and soldiers on both sides felt the effects even now. But this wasn’t about the war, and Pansy felt silly for even seeing a therapist for her trivial problems when Draco still had nightmares every time he closed his eyes and Greg was still learning to live without his Vincent at his side--when everyone had deep wounds from the war and Pansy had carved her own without the Dark Lord’s help.

Daphne didn’t take that for an answer. “Pansy, talk to me. You can’t just say something like that and then clam up.”

“It’s just the stress,” Pansy lied. “Since Romilda took leave, I’ve been stuck with double the workload, and it’s getting to be too much.”

Daphne pursed her lips. “For the record, I don’t believe you one bit. But I’ll let it slide for now.”

Pansy breathed a sigh of relief before smirking. “And now, the true intrigue. Who have you been spending your nights with, Daph?”

The blonde in question pressed her lips together in a secretive smile. “This week? Theodore Nott.”

Pansy’s eyes widened. “I thought you had a thing for Zabini.”

“I did. He had a thing for me too, so we did some things together. But that was _last_ month…”

They stayed for five and a half hours, and Pansy didn’t even worry about all the work she was missing. Daphne had a way of making hours last mere minutes. Pansy wasn’t complaining.

  


“I made dinner,” Draco said as a greeting when Pansy came in through the Floo. His feet were propped up on her coffee table, causing Pansy to hiss internally, but she didn’t say anything. She knew from experience it wouldn’t do any good.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Alright, so I called the Muggle restaurant down the street, and they’re delivering Chinese food.”

Pansy raised a brow. “You used a phone? And talked to a Muggle? Draco, I’m impressed.” She hung her jacket on the coat rack and joined him on the couch, tucking her head under his chin.

Draco scoffed. “I’m not completely inept.”

“Of course not. You’re only mostly inept.” She felt his glare on the crown of her head but didn’t deign to acknowledge it. “Daphne’s back in town,” she said instead.

“So I’ve heard.”

“You talked to her?”

“She said you’ve been going to therapy.”

“Ah.” Pansy extracted herself from Draco so she could see his face, which was frowning.

“Pans, what’s wrong?”

She was really regretting ever talking to Daphne at all. “Merlin, Draco, it’s not a big deal, honestly. I’ve been to one session.”

“That’s one session more than you’d been to a few days ago. Tell me what’s going on.”

“This is exactly why I didn’t tell you,” Pansy cried in exasperation. “As crazy as it may sound, I’m not like you. I can’t just down a few bottles of Firewhiskey and scream my problems at the world. I push things down and internalize them, and sometimes that’s too much. So yes, I’ve been seeing a therapist, but not because anything _happened_ or because something’s _going on_. I’m seeing a therapist because sometimes people just need to talk and I’ve never been good at that, okay?”

Draco’s mouth flew shut, eyes darkening, before he nodded once and drew Pansy back into his arms. She went willingly because no matter how much venom she put into her voice, she could never truly be angry with her oldest friend.

They stayed like that until the doorbell rang. Draco slipped out from under her to answer it. Pansy stared at the dusty smudges on the coffee table where Draco’s feet had just been for a few seconds before rubbing them off with the base of her palm.

“...of course I can count to twenty. I’m not a bloody idiot.”

Pansy smiled at the disgruntled tone in Draco’s voice. He still struggled with Muggle currency but wouldn’t admit it on threat of death. The door slammed shut a minute later, and Draco walked in with as much poise as ever, as though he hadn’t just cursed out the delivery person for his own inability. Handing her a small box and a plastic fork, he plopped back down on the couch to dig into their cuisine.

Pansy bit into the fried rice and thought, not for the first time, how much had changed since leaving Hogwarts six years ago. If someone told her at seventeen that one day she’d be living in a Muggle apartment complex eating cheap Chinese food with a plastic utensil because she didn’t own a house-elf or even a decent set of silverware, she’d have told them they were confusing her with the Weaslette. Now, it was sort of comforting to know that meals could be a non-event. There didn’t need to be formal wear or table manners or hours of planning or inviting important guests. All one needed was food, and that was oddly revolutionary to her graduate self.

“You’re being quiet,” she observed once she’d thoroughly appreciated her first few bites.

Draco picked at a mushy piece of broccoli in silence for a few moments. Without looking up, he said, “Astoria’s ill again.” Pansy put her food down in favor of wrapping her arms around her friend. “It’s just hard, you know,” he continued, “seeing her so frail and empty. She’s trying so hard to get through, but some days she just doesn’t have the energy to try. I--I can’t watch that, but then I feel guilty for not being there for her, so I sit by her bedside until I feel sick myself with worry.”

“It’s hard to watch the ones we love suffer,” Pansy said softly.

Draco shook his head. “That’s the problem. I don’t love her. I’ve tried--Merlin, I’ve tried. But the feelings aren’t there. So I just watch her suffer every goddamn day, telling her it’s going to be okay, and it fucking isn’t. And I can’t tell her how I feel because if--” He swallowed. “If she dies, I’ll feel like it’s my fault--like she survived her fucking body breaking down, but the last straw was breaking her heart.”

Pansy wasn’t sure what to say to that--if there was anything one _could_ say to that--so she said the thing that had been plaguing her.  “I thought you didn’t care to marry for love.”

A choked laugh squeezed out of Draco’s throat. “Pans, we all say shit we don’t mean when we’re trying to convince ourselves the plans our parents have laid out for us are what we fucking want.”

Pansy remembered the train ride to Hogwarts sixth year when Draco professed his hatred for Hogwarts to cover up his genuine fear about his upcoming task. She remembered when he came to her replete with praise for the Dark Lord, trying to force himself to believe it. She remembered the emptiness in his eyes as well as the countless occasions on which her own eyes looked the same as her mouth spewed words through her cage of shiny white teeth.

“And what is it you want?” she asked, voice as still as the dead. Pansy felt her throat constrict, fear replacing the space in her lungs that her words vacated. It was unexplainable, this anxiety she felt about hearing a true, raw desire. Part of her needed it like she needed air, but another part of her knew the truth would destroy everything. Because Pansy had never once given into that primal craving deep in her bones to do something purely because she wanted to, consequences be damned. Even changing from four course meals to Chinese takeout hadn’t granted her the freedom to live the life she dreamed.

Draco opened and closed his mouth several times before whispering, “I don’t know.”

Pansy deflated at the words, going almost limp under the weight. She wanted to say something, but she couldn’t find her voice. And even if she’d been able to, she didn’t know what she’d say. _What is it you want, Pansy?_ She squeezed her eyes shut.

_I don’t know._

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Daphne Greengrass was not okay. Pansy was right when she said Daphne hadn’t come home from Paris just for her. She came home for her sister who had been bedridden for a week and was only looking worse by the day. With Pansy seeing a therapist and Draco dealing with Astoria on top of his usual war trauma, they were all falling apart. Daphne didn’t generally consider herself to be caring or aware of other people’s problems, but she knew this situation called for action. When Theo canceled on her to attend his mother’s funeral, it was the final push she needed to decide they could all use a reunion night.

“Pans, I’m planning a Slytherin get-together. What night works best for you?”

Pansy didn’t look up from her work. “I’m chronically busy. You can get together without me. Did you write that column like you promised?”

Daphne waved her hand in dismissal. “I’ll get it to you later this week. And no we absolutely cannot get together without you. Choose a day or I’ll pick one for you and Imperius you to show up.”

Pansy did look up then, if only to shoot the blonde a tired look. “Daph, you’re not using an Unforgivable Curse to get me to go to a party.”

“So you’ll show up willingly?” Daphne asked with a venomous grin.

“That’s not--”

“Great, so I was thinking Friday. How does that sound?”

Pansy sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of her nose for dramatic effect. “Fine, yes, get out.”

Daphne smiled innocently. “Love you, too.” She Apparated before Pansy’s projectile inkwell could hit her in the face.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Secretly, Pansy was looking forward to the party. With everything that was going on, what she needed more than anything was a break--and perhaps some alcohol. So when Draco showed up at her apartment looking less downtrodden than usual, she almost grinned. Almost.

“Tell me you brought the liquor or I’ll Stupefy you and leave you for the street sweeper to pick up.”

Draco raised a brow. “And I thought my excellent company was enough.”

“Draco...” she said warningly. She did not take off work to show up at a non-alcoholic gathering, thank you very much.

“Relax,” he said, waving off her concern. “When have I ever not brought alcohol to your house?”

Pansy wiggled a finger at him. “ _That_ is something we should talk about. Your addictive tendencies are insufferable.”

Draco lazily pushed past her to get inside. “If this turns out to be an AA meeting...”

“Whatever happens tonight, blame Daphne. I too am here against my will.”

Draco snorted. “If that’s the case then Daph will be suffocating under the weight of her guilt by the time the evening’s over.”

Pansy couldn’t help but agree.

Blaise arrived first, followed by Theo and Daphne.

“Millie will be a bit late,” the blonde woman said cheerfully as she entered, instantly making herself at home, “and Greg and Tracey can’t make it. I’m not sure what Greg’s deal is, but Trace said something about a work retreat. I, however, heard there’s a new man in her life so I’m betting work was merely an excuse.”

“And you let her get away with that?” Draco muttered, followed by a bitter, “Some people get all the luck.”

Daphne gave him a pat on the cheek. “You know you love me.”

“You’re delusional.”

Daphne scowled but turned away from him, vanishing the coffee table and plopping down in the center of the living room. The others piled in after her. Pansy sat wedged between Draco and Daphne, with Theo to Daphne’s left and Blaise to Draco’s right. Millicent walked in without knocking or saying a word and squeezed in between Blaise and Theo.

“Millie, how’s life treating you?” Blaise asked smoothly. He received only a grunt in response, and Pansy grinned. She’d missed her Slytherin friends.

Uncorking the first bottle theatrically, Draco took a swig. Daphne cheered and gestured for him to pass it around. He glared at her and pulled it closer to him like it was his firstborn child. Rolling her eyes, Millicent opened another, and it slowly passed its way around the circle. Pansy couldn’t wait, so she snatched Draco’s bottle and took a gulp. It burned on the way down, but soon, a pleasant buzz ran through her.

“So what did you have in mind, oh omnipotent party planner?” Pansy asked when Draco reclaimed his bottle.

Daphne raised her brows aristocratically. “Truth or dare.” A series of groans followed the response. She held up a hand to silence them. “Don’t give me any of that. I was nice enough to organize this gathering for you lot. The least you can do is humor me by playing my party game.”

“We’re here against our wills,” Draco whined at the same time Blaise said, “I’m in,” with a shrug. The others reluctantly followed suit.

Daphne smiled radiantly at them. The brilliance of it made Pansy glad she’d agreed to her friend’s antics. Between that grin and the way her skin tingled everywhere it met Daphne’s, perhaps the night wouldn’t be a total waste after all.

“I’ll cast the spell, and you all know the rules. If you pick truth, you’re compelled to answer the question honestly, and you can choose one truth or one dare to pass by taking a drink. Once you’ve used your freebie, no more passing. Got it?”

“I’ll ask first,” Blaise said, feigning nonchalance. Pansy knew he was enjoying himself immensely but had to act cool to maintain his decorum. “Theo, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

Blaise tapped thoughtfully at his chin. “You had to have had a thing for a professor at some point. Which one?”

Theo’s ear reddened but he answered easily, “McGonagall. Draco, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

Theo considered him. “Have you ever thought about fucking a Gryffindor?”

Draco’s ground his jaw. The rest of them giggled. They’d always teased him about his obsession with Potter. Of course, no one really took it seriously, but it was fun to rile him up a little. Pansy fully expected the answer to be no, which would entirely kill their fun, but Draco had standards, and he was practically the king of Slytherin so obviously--

“Yes.”

She looked up at him in surprise. Surely he wasn’t actually talking about the Golden Boy. There were a plethora of girls in Gryffindor that were far more likely to have drawn Draco’s fancy. Pansy mentally slapped herself for jumping to such conclusions.

Draco wasn’t making eye contact with anyone as he asked, “Truth or dare, Pansy?”

Might as well kick things up a notch. “Dare.”

Draco was already pretty far gone, and as he thought up a question, he popped open another bottle of Firewhiskey. “Kiss the most attractive person in the room.”

Pansy raised a brow. “That’s the best you’ve got?” She scanned the faces surrounding her. Blaise wasn’t all that bad looking, but Daphne blew him out of the water. It wouldn’t be weird if she kissed her, right? It wasn’t like it would give anything away--not that there was anything _to_ give away, Pansy reminded herself. Daphne was obviously the best looking of the group, gender aside. Taking a deep breath and a swig of Firewhiskey for courage, Pansy pressed her lips against her friend’s. A disappointed sound came from Blaise’s direction, and Millicent mumbled a small “huh”, but Pansy wasn’t paying attention because she was kissing Daphne, and then suddenly Daphne was kissing her back. Those glossy lips moved against hers, leaving sparks in their wake. She wondered if Daphne would freak if she ran her tongue along her lip. It was a dizzying thought, but ultimately, even the Firewhiskey couldn’t give her enough courage.

When Pansy finally pulled away, she couldn’t look Daphne in the eye. “Millie, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” the woman answered.

“Switch underwear with Blaise.”

Millie rolled her eyes and cast a quick spell with her wand. Blaise’s eyes widened, and they all let out a laugh. Millie looked pleased with herself. Pansy wondered what sort of lingerie could possibly be in Blaise’s pants right now. Scratch that--she didn’t want to know.

“Daphne, truth or dare?”

The game went around like that for a while, with the dares getting raunchier and the number of unopened Firewhiskey bottles getting smaller. At one point, Millie gave Theo a blowjob, and Blaise jerked off in his hand for all of them to see. Draco used his pass early on to avoid going down on Daphne, but otherwise, everyone had accepted what they were given. Most people were picking dare now, so when Theo called on her, Pansy decided to shake things up again.

“Truth.”

He blinked drunkenly before asking, “Who was the first guy you ever had a crush on?” he slurred.

Pansy opened her mouth to answer, too pissed to think and hoping the compulsion would push it out of her. No sound came out. Her inebriated mind whirred unhelpfully. Was the charm broken? Maybe she could just throw out the first name she thought of. Maybe Terry Boot; he wasn’t bad. She opened and closed her mouth again. Still nothing. Who _had_ her first crush been? She couldn’t for the life of her think of a guy who’d caught her interest. Sure, she’d fucked a few over the years, but had she ever had a crush on one?

The others were starting to look confused or concerned--excluding Blaise who had his hand back down his trousers. Hurriedly, she took a drink. Daphne gave her a curious look, and Draco chewed at his cheek in thought.

They continued playing for another hour or so before calling it a night. Theo had passed out already, and Blaise followed quickly after. Millicent shrugged before closing her eyes as well. Only Daphne and Draco were still awake.

Daphne turned to her with inquisitive eyes. “Pans, what was that about?”

Pansy shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m tired, Daphne. Let’s talk in the morning.”

Daphne nodded reluctantly. With one last worried glance, she curled around Theo and let her breathing even out. Pansy tried to convince herself the wrenching pain in her chest was a heart attack. Then she wondered what the fuck was wrong with her to make that a positive alternative.

She glared at Draco and snapped, “What are you looking at?”

Even in his drunken state, his eyes were intense. “You never had a crush on a guy,” he said finally. Pansy glanced at Daphne anxiously to make sure she was asleep. She was. Draco snorted softly. “Of course.”

Pansy felt bile rise in her throat. “Please don’t--”

“Pans,” Draco interrupted, “why do you think I used my pass?”

A small “o” appeared on her lips. And then she cracked up. “Wonderful purebloods we are.”

Draco raised his brows. “I’m an excellent pureblood. I’m just not as fit in the heir-making department.”

Pansy remembered their previous conversation and grimaced. “That’s why you can’t love Astoria, isn’t it?”

A dark shadow crossed Draco’s face. “I do care for her, but...I just don’t want her like that.”

Pansy nodded, pulling his arms around her in a half embrace. “I’m glad that at least we can be rubbish heir-makers together. Night, Draco.”

“Goodnight, Pansy.”

 

The next morning, Pansy got dressed and went to work before everyone got up. She took a hangover potion, which mitigated her headache, but an overwhelming sense of nausea remained. If Daphne asked her about last night, she might just die on the spot. And maybe that would be best.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

“You came back,” Luna said with a proud smile. “I had a feeling you would.”

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in.” Pansy glared heavily, walking past her into the therapy room they were in before. It was after hours again, and since Pansy hadn’t scheduled an appointment, she was secretly relieved to find Luna willing to see her. She hadn’t even known she was going to show up until she’d Apparated here instead of her apartment after work. Apparently, her subconscious needed this more than she thought.

Luna hummed as she followed behind her. Today her ensemble was made up of warmer colors, with yellows and pinks layered to make a flowing skirt and red suspenders holding it all up. Orange boots finished off the look, and Pansy found herself wishing she had the confidence to wear something like that, because, despite the oddity of it all, Luna looked _good_.

The Ravenclaw climbed into an armchair and folded her legs criss-cross, tilting her head to the side. “Would you like to talk this time?”

Pansy collapsed on the couch with a tortured sigh. She stayed there for a long while before saying quietly, “Yes, I’d like--no, I _need_ to talk.”

Luna pressed her lips together in contemplation. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Pansy knew this was only the beginning of the therapy session and that she was supposed to be better at keeping things inside, but perhaps there was only so long one could contain the hurricane of emotions raging inside because those words were all it took to let it all loose.

“I’m so...so _frustrated_. I’ve been working my arse off since Hogwarts to get to where I am, and I spend my days slaving away over everyone else’s secrets and front page news stories. When I get home, Draco is there, and I let him drink himself into oblivion and pour his problems on my shoulders. Usually, he falls asleep in my lap, and then I wake up with a sore back and my makeup charms smudged. The next day, I start all over again, and it’s exhausting. I can’t even remember the last time I did something for me or had a night to myself. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Pansy took a shuddering breath before continuing. “When you kicked me out last time, you told me you only wanted to speak to Pansy. But she’s not here. She was brutalized and beaten down back when I was still in school. Her heart was obliterated by the war and scattered by the cruelty it pushed her to. Her thoughts were repressed until only tradition remained at the forefront. She isn’t here anymore, and I miss her. I miss writing in a diary and having things to say. I miss being able to talk about my feelings and say what’s authentic to who I am. I miss _feeling_ things. But what I miss most of all is hearing my own thoughts, free of judgment or denial. And I don’t know how to get that back.” She choked, throat constricting impossibly tight. “I just don’t know.”

After she broke off, Luna studied her for a long time. Pansy realized tears were trailing down her face but couldn’t be bothered to remove them. Then Luna smiled a soft, compassionate smile. “There’s the Pansy I wanted to speak with.”

A laugh bubbled out of the Slytherin’s throat. “Merlin, I can’t imagine why. She’s such a downer.”

Luna’s eyes were bright with life. “She’s _real_. And that’s the most anyone can ask of her.” Pansy didn’t respond to that--didn’t know what to say. It was the total opposite of everything she’d been taught. Mother and father had lectured about keeping emotions contained and thoughts to herself. Hogwarts had taught to repress the teachings of her mother and father. Working at the Daily Prophet made her realize it wasn’t safe to talk about anything at all lest you wished to find it on the front page of tomorrow’s paper. Slowly, without even noticing, Pansy had sealed up everything she felt, thought, or believed until the word “real” disappeared from her vocabulary. She was a character--a figure. She wasn’t _Pansy_. And realizing that was the first step in finally healing.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I think...I think that’s all I have in me for tonight.”

Luna smiled that mysterious smile. “Your Wrackspurts disappearing.”

Pansy didn’t know what that meant, but she smiled back shyly. And then she Apparated. There was something she needed to do.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Pansy took a deep breath. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. After talking with Draco at the get-together and spilling everything at her therapy session, she had finally come to terms with the fact that she’d been in love with her best friend since she was thirteen.

Now, standing outside Daphne’s house, she wondered if she’d completely and utterly lost her mind. Of course Daphne wouldn’t feel the same way. She’d fucked every guy on the face of the planet, and apparently, she even enjoyed it. It was one thing for Pansy to admit she was gay; it was quite another to show up on Daphne’s doorstep and confess her love. But she’d already rung the doorbell, and she didn’t think even years of putting up walls against her emotions would help her now. She’d broken down the levies, and there was no turning back.

Daphne opened the door, a smile lighting her face when she saw her dark-haired friend. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Pansy took a deep breath. “I love you.”

Daphne blinked. “You took off work to tell me that? Are you feeling okay? I swear I’ll write the rest of your articles if you need to take a vacation to the tropics--”

“Daphne, listen to me,” Pansy asserted, eyes fierce. “When I passed in Truth or Dare the other night, it wasn’t because I was keeping my first crush a secret. It was because I physically couldn’t make any sound come out. That stupid charm compels the truth, and there was no truth to tell.”

Daphne furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve never had a crush on a guy because I’ve been in love with you since third year.”

Daphne swallowed. “You never told me.”

“I’ve never told anyone anything real, Daph,” Pansy said softly. “But I’m telling you now.” The breeze blew a few strands of dark hair in her face, and she brushed them aside. The wind howled in her ears--or perhaps that was merely the pulsing of her blood.

Daphne was staring at her like she’d never seen her before. “I’ve fucked every guy on the face of the planet,” she said monotone, repeating Pansy’s own thoughts from moments ago.

Pansy squeezed her eyes shut. “I know, I know, and I almost didn’t tell you because I know you don’t--”

“I’ve dated and snogged and held hands with wizards from around the world.”

“I fucking know that, Daph, but I--”

Daphne stepped forwards, placing a single finger on Pansy’s lips. “And in all this time, I’ve never found a single one who could make me feel half of what you make me feel just by saying my name.”

Pansy couldn’t comprehend, either because of her close proximity to those gorgeous glossy lips or because the words coming out of them were too good to be true. But then, those lips found hers, and the fog cleared.

Pansy’s heart sang. She didn’t know whether it was Luna’s expertise that had healed her or if it was only a matter of time before the truth came bursting out, but Pansy felt free. In that moment, she didn’t care if she made the front page or if no one ever talked about her again. Because she knew who Pansy Parkinson was.

Pansy Parkinson was sensitive but strong. She was a caring friend and the best damn editor the Daily Prophet had ever seen. Her unwrinkling charms were worthy of earning her a spot on the next Chocolate Frog card, and no one could rock heels the way she could. Pansy was complicated and damaged and a downright mess, but she was also _real_ for the first time in as long as she could remember. And she was kissing the love of her life. She’d never imagined that breaking every rule she’d ever been taught could feel this spectacular. A hurricane had been let loose, and there was no reeling it back in. Because despite everything, Pansy Parkinson was free.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave your thoughts below and follow me at owlswithfins.tumblr.com for more Harry Potter femslash content <3


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